Of Emeralds and Porcelain
by Nausikaa
Summary: In which Harry battles perilous ink stains, proves he doesn't belong in Hufflepuff, and learns to love the library.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, although I am the proud owner of a Goblet of Fire DVD, which I have to say is excellent._

_A/N: Random title. Yes, I too realize this. But, I liked it, and it kind of ties in with the story. Even though this story has nothing to do with pottery or precious stones. Hmm, I think my connection is a little faulty._

_So, apparently I have no life since I am uploading again instead of doing my french homework parce-ce que je suis une mauvaise eleve et je deteste faire mes devoirs. Anyway, I actually put some time into this story, and some parts still aren't 100, but whatever._

**Of Emeralds and Porcelain **

Harry Potter sat in the common room, gazing around, idly wondering what the hell was going on.

However, Harry often wondered this when Ron was involved, so really, he wasn't all that concerned. Loud voices reverberated off the walls, and a rather large throng of rowdy onlookers was gathered near the portrait hole. Harry spotted the tell tale mop of red attached to his gangly best friend in the middle. Ron's face, he noticed, was a shade of crimson that rivaled his hair. He figured he better go calm the bloke down before he did something incredibly stupid, as Ron was known to do, to his sister; the person with whom he was currently engaged in a furious shouting match with. Even though they were standing less than six feet apart, Harry suspected that based on the sheer volume of their voices, they were pretending to be in different countries. And Ginny was just warming up. Ron might be able to battle with Death Eaters, but he was no match for this scarlet ball of fury.

As Harry approached to duo, he realized just how much they resembled tomatoes. Or maybe chili peppers – the red hot kind. Yea, that was more like it. Tall, skinny, red, and with a spice that could knock you on your ass.

Harry pushed those thoughts from his mind; it was not the time to be thinking about which type of vegetable his best friend resembled most. He needed to concentrate. Interrupting Ginny when she was mad usually incited dire consequences.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" Harry's voice trembled.

He quickly ducked a yellow jet of light, lest he should sprout scissors for hands or something of the like. Although, Harry mused, that _could _be useful.

Ginny's curse struck an unsuspecting armchair, and it promptly started emitting large puffs of odd purple smoke. Harry blessed the gods of Quidditch for his quick reflexes.

"Ronald decided it was okay to threaten my boyfriend with bodily harm if he ever so much as looked at me wrong, and now, he's broken up with me!" Ginny screamed.

"Well, he was a bit shifty looking," Ron informed Harry. "And he was a _Ravenclaw._" Ron continued, as if that explained everything.

"And what's wrong with Ravenclaw?" Ginny countered.

Ron just stared at her, apparently unable to combat that one.

Ginny glared back.

Ron looked at Harry for support.

Harry shrugged.

"Oh Ron, you're still just bitter because Fleur went to the ball with Roger Davies, you know, the _Ravenclaw_ Quidditch captain, instead of you!" And with that, Ginny stalked off.

Ron, on the other hand, was still just staring.

"Ron, you okay mate?" Harry asked.

But Ron just walked away muttering under his breath. Harry distinctly heard the words 'delusional', and 'hit in the head by one too many quaffles.'

_Hmm, well, at least they were entertaining,_ Harry thought, as he retreated to his previous spot by the fire.

Meanwhile, Hermione sat in the corner, pretending to be reading her Ancient Runes textbook. In all reality, she was watching the antics of her friends. So, Ginny was single now? She glanced at Harry.

_This was going to be interesting._

* * *

Later in the week, Harry sat under his favorite beech tree near the lake, enjoying the rays of sun and the last of the warm temperatures before winter set in, effectively transforming the castle into an icicle. He was flanked by Ron and Ginny, who occasionally released angry little huffs and pointedly looked anywhere but at each other. 

"This is ridiculous," Harry started.

Before he could finish, Ron jumped in.

"I know what you mean, mate. Quidditch is starting soon, and Snape's already set us a two foot essay on syrup of Hellebore. That man is a complete bastard..." Ron kept his tirade going. He didn't notice that on one was listening.

Obviously, Harry thought, he _did not_ know what I meant. Or, more likely, he did, and was avoiding the subject like it was McGonagall and he was Fred after having been caught setting the same Slytherin's pants on fire for the fifth time. Yup, that sounded like Ron.

"…and as Dad was telling me just a few weeks ago, the muggles are getting pretty suspicious. I mean, only so many toilets can mysteriously explode before they figure out something's up…"

_Wow, he's still going._

"No one cares about muggles restrooms, Ron!" Ginny exploded, much like aforementioned toilets.

"Yea, well…!" Ron exclaimed, jumping up. "I'm going to find Hermione." He finished lamely.

"Git." Ginny said to his retreating form.

"You know," Harry began.

Ginny glowered at him.

Harry stopped talking mid-sentence. That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

* * *

When the next week rolled around, finally there was something to look forward to. The first Quidditch practice of the season was that Tuesday night. 

Harry Potter, expert seeker and newly instated team captain, couldn't wait to get back up in the air. He needed some way to escape the tension on the ground.

Ron and Ginny had not let up all week. When Harry had finally cracked and told Ginny to just forgive Ron, he was family after all, and _for Merlin's sake_ at least be civil, Ginny had informed him that she didn't have a brother named Ron. Hermione had attained similar results when she tried to reason with the older Weasley.

So, it was with much excitement and anticipation that Harry stood in front of his team Tuesday evening. He felt hopeful; Ron had improved his keeping skills immensely over the summer, and Ginny had been flying faster than ever. _They were going to have a good year._

Four players with bruises from miss-hit bludgers, three players who had fallen off their brooms, two scream filled hours, and one keeper with a broken arm from a quaffle forcefully launched, _ahem_, _accidentally_ at him by a certain red haired chaser later, Harry blew his whistle and ended the practice. He was hoarse and exhausted. _They were going to have a long year._

* * *

Ever since "The–Ron–Needs–to–Learn–How–to–Dodge" incident, as she had so affectionately named it, Ginny finally calmed down. It seemed that she decided Ron had paid enough for his meddling. In fact, lately she had been spending a large amount of her time with The Golden Trio. An abnormally large amount of time. 

Hermione was getting suspicious.

One evening, Harry and Ginny were studying in the library. It was almost empty save for them and a gang of Slytherin third-years huddled around a nasty book sporting the title _Magic Moste Evile_. They had fled the common room after Ron and Hermione's usual bickering had become unbearable. While it was a sign that Ron was back to normal, Harry seriously wished they would just take the proverbial bull by the horns and snog already.

From her seat across the table, Ginny studied Harry. He was much more interesting than her Astronomy chart. True, he wasn't your usual heartthrob; no blonde hair, no chiseled muscles straight off Adonis himself. But there was a certain quality, something Ginny couldn't put her finger on, that made everyone who wasn't named Severus fall in love with Harry. He was tall and lean, and had hair the kind of black one only saw on the darkest of nights. And his eyes, emeralds, were like beacons shining out through the fog. Of course, being the golden Boy-Who-Lived and Dark Lord Defeater to boot didn't hurt either. Girls were practically prostrating themselves at his feet. She was surprised he could walk down the corridor without tripping over bodies. Still, Harry was clueless.

Harry looked up from _Advanced Potion-Making_ and Snape's ridiculously hard essay to find Ginny staring at him. He couldn't help but notice the way the candlelight flickered and bounced across her hair. It looked like real fire; the flames danced intricately around each other. It made her face look all the more delicate, as if it were made of porcelain. A life-like China Doll.

This wasn't the first time Harry had noticed her either. Over the past few weeks, he had found himself wondering when, exactly, Ron's little sister had turned into Ginny, the girl he fancied but would rather face another Hungarian Horntail than admit to it. He knew she used to have a crush on him. As oblivious as he was, that fact had not been lost upon him. Harry also knew that she had changed. Still, he hoped that maybe, deep down, she still cared for him. And that she would wait for him to pluck up the courage to tell her that he cared for her too.

_Scared of a girl? Really, why did the Sorting Hat put him in Gryffindor? He was a Hufflepuff for sure._

"What?" Harry asked, when Ginny continued to stare.

Ginny smiled. "You have ink on your nose."

"Really?" Harry inquired, trying to wipe away the offending smudge. "Did I get it?"

Ginny laughed. Harry had ink on his fingers. He was making it worse.

"No," she chuckled. He was so hopeless. "Oh, come here. Let me do it. Can't have the famous Harry Potter meeting his demise from an evil ink stain, now can we? You-Know-Who would be so disappointed if his plans were foiled by a quill." she teased.

Ginny shifted to the chair next to Harry. She smelled like lavender, he noted. A quick _scourgify_ later, Harry was ink free, yet Ginny didn't move away.

"That sweater looks very nice on you, it matches your eyes." Ginny said, indicating Harry's jade shirt.

Harry smiled nonchalantly at the complement.

"Harry, why are you turning so red? Do you feel alright?"

Okay, maybe not _that_ nonchalantly.

He missed the devious twinkle her eyes.

She was so close, he could count her freckles. _Seriously…1…2…3…4_…_No! Stop it Harry. Focus._ Ginny was right there, but he couldn't open his mouth, couldn't say what he felt in his heart._ You are not a Hufflepuff! You are Gryffindor. Act like it, Potter!_

Harry was not usually one good with words. So instead, he leaned in and kissed her.

_Fin._

_Wow, that review button looks pretty damn sexy. Maybe you should click it and see what it does._


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